I want to go to Maine with the family for the summer. Well, actually, I don’t really want to go to Maine. I just want to be one of those people who go to Maine for the summer.
It’s February, the time of year where we always plan our summer trips. And the time where we hear of those who will be “summering in Maine.” Doesn’t that sound nice? These people are obviously more educated than we are. They are going to the Northeast for the summer. It’s closer to Harvard. They spend their evenings eating fresh caught lobster with their families around the dinner table, after which their young daughters run around the grass on their waterfront habitat trying to catch fireflies. During the long, Eat Pray Love days they reflect on poetry, the meaning of life and the benefits of $30 an ounce saffron in mussels, while their children practice Latin and program their latest website with Ruby on Rails.
I have three teenagers. Each summer, I vacation in HELL! We visit a national park each year. Four of them have requested that we not return (sorry about the propane canisters in the camp fire, Sgt. McKindrick. Who knew?). We pose for pictures where everyone looks blissfully happy, then the kids immediately try to push each other down the thousand foot crevasse we are perched upon. The only relaxation is sedation. The only contemplation, as my 15-year-old daughter puts it, is whether or not to shoot ourselves in the face.
Why do those who summer in Maine have such a perfect life while my life is always in such chaos!
Or are these just the illusions we surround ourselves with. We compare the picture of life we see from others to the reality of life we live every day.
Maybe my chaos is not that bad after all. Comparatively.
Do you unfairly compare your “normal” life to the perfect lives of others?